


What Things May Come

by love_in_nature



Series: Emma and Solas [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:24:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9796169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_in_nature/pseuds/love_in_nature
Summary: Snippets to show the growth and stages of the relationship between Emma, as a Dalish Inquisitor, and Solas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction is purely self-indulgent. I created Emma in game as a Lavellan and that made me want to write what her and Solas' relationship would have been like if this had been the case. So basically another spin-off to my Once Upon A Dream fic but an AU where Emma is Lavellan.
> 
> Since this is purely self-indulgent there is not set update schedule. It is just me exploring things that weren't shown or explored in game. Mainly character growth and the relationship between Solas and Emma in this version of the world.
> 
> NSFW chapters will be *
> 
> Tons of love and credit to galadrieljones. Her lovely fiction [The Dead Season](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7468581/chapters/16972533) was a huge inspiration in me exploring this more and finally getting it down. If you haven't read it I _strongly_ recommend going and doing so like yesterday.

Fen’harel had watched from a distance as his orb’s power had been released.  Watched with grim determination and confidence that what he had done was for the best.  What he had done was the only option available to him.

Then the determination had turned to a shocked surprise.  Something had gone wrong.  He sensed it almost immediately.  It was his magic after all so naturally he would have felt even a slight shift, and this was anything but slight.  

Than another unexpected feeling.  Someone connecting, joining, a mortal.  This magic was not meant for their kind, it was not meant for this world much less for some shell of a being.  

He had started forward even before the Breach had taken full form.  This was yet another complication.  He had been impatient and foolish.  Now he would need to work to correct it as best he could.

It was becoming a theme for him.  This constant game of catch up, but what was he to have done?  The evanuris had left him little choice.  If they had gone unchecked everything would have been turned to ash.

He did not regret what he had done nor did he find self-loathing in the act.  What he did regret were the consequences, many unforeseen ones that he now needed to make right.  His people had become lost due to what he had done.  It was time to lead them home, time to make them whole once more, even if that meant the current world must burn.  A regrettable consequence but, once again, a seemingly unavoidable one.

Patience.  He would be need to bid his time now.  Whatever happened to the mortal who had taken the power of his orb, he would stay with them.  He had no choice in this.  He would need that magic, thus he now found himself bound to a mortal shadow of a being.  That was assuming they survived the magic to begin with.  Something he had his doubts for.

As he made his way to Haven he passed by the chaos.  Had he not been what he was, he had little doubt he would have been knocked into on more than one occasion.  As it was, a mage in apostate style clothing was given a wide berth.  One would think magic was a deadly illness they could catch.

When he got to Haven he had waited and watched, completely ignored by the shells as they ran around him.  It was not that he did not have any sympathy for them.  Even now his gut twisted in guilt that he had unintentionally caused yet more suffering.  These beings may be mere shadows of what should be, but he still did not wish pain on them.  It would have been quick had things gone to plan.

But they had not.  

The only thing he could do to help now was to place himself in an unassuming position where he would be able to guide without drawing attention to himself.  Plans would have to be reworked.  New groundwork laid.  Best case scenario his orb would be recoverable, but he would need to have a secondary plan if it were not.

However, his first concern was saving the mortal who had taken the magic.  To this end he continued to wait until finally a female warrior with an undeniable air of command to her came over to him.  The way she carried herself reminded him of one of his favorite general’s, one who had been born from a spirit of Valour.  It made a soft ache beat in his heart for his lost home.

The female spent several minutes interrogating him.  When she asked his name he had given her the one long unused by him.  The one he had not been referred to since he had become Evanuris.  

Solas.  

A name for a younger elf that had not carried such a weight on his shoulders.  A young elvhen whose greatest interest had been gaining more knowledge and exploring what the world had to offer him in every regard.  It would suit well, though it would undoubtedly be jarring to hear again till he had adjusted accordingly.

As the warrior continued her slew of questions he found himself becoming agitated at the wasting away of time.  The being who had taken his mark could be dying as they spoke.  He had used his abilities as a Fade mage, and a dreamer as they called it, to push that he might offer assistance that others could not.  This seemed to do little to aid his progress until another woman, this one clearly a spy of some kind, came up.  He explained yet again but was finally rewarded with access to the mortal.   Whoever this new female was, the warrior trusted her and when the spy acquiesced to him the warrior did not argue it.

Once he was finally led to the mortal he found it to be a female mage.  She was clearly Dalish, the slave markings across her forehead worn with such pride serving as another stark reminder of just how wrong this world was.  

He imagined it would also make this more complicated, for out of all the races he had encountered the Dalish had been by far the most hostile towards him.  That was not even knowing that he was the god they so vilified.  A fact that would have been harder for him to take when he woke had he not already had knowledge of it being so from his walks in the Fade.  

Even so, it was difficult to be awake.  To experience it all.  To  _ feel  _ the dullness of everything.  Nothing as bright as it should be, nothing as alive as it should be, and nothing sang the same anymore.  It had been so much worse to experience it; to feel like dreaming was the only place things were real while being awake was something he had to force himself to do out of necessity.

Now, as he took the Dalish child’s hand, he realized that he would likely need to be awake even more.  A thought he did not relish in the least.  

As he reached out to her his attention was drawn back to the present.  The magic was reacting to her but it was not nearly as overwhelming as he had suspected.  She was strong.  He could practically feel the force of her will pushing back.  It was… oddly intriguing, unexpected.  It should have been much more work to shield her and protect her from the magic consuming her.  

Had this child been born in his time she might have been able to become something great.  For the first time he felt genuine hope that he might be able to use her to get everything back on the path it needed to be on.

Hour after hour he held vigil over her, only stopping to sleep or to eat the food that was brought to him.  Just as he had begun to think that, even should it not kill her, she might simply never wake he felt her stir.  The awakening of her awareness tangible to him as he kept control over the mark.  

The moment he felt the first tinglings of it he had laid the girl’s hand on the blanket and gone in search of the Seeker.

  
  


When Emma did wake she did not wake to the expected warmth of soft furs.  Nor did she hear the gentle chirps of birds greeting the morning light or the quiet shuffles of camp coming to life.  There was only cold and hardness everywhere, accompanied by the steady plop of water dripping on stone.  Where there should have been life and warmth, there was only coldness and unfeeling stone. 

Then the pain.

Shocking and all consuming.  It was like nothing she’d ever felt before.  It jolted up her arm setting her nerves on fire.  It felt like her hand was being ripped apart piece by piece.  Then as suddenly as it had hit her it was gone, leaving only a green gash in her hand that let off one last spark as she looked down at it.

She was shackled in a some kind of dungeon with no memory of how she had gotten there.  This had not been part of the plan.  

Her entire life she had spent living it for her family and her clan.  She was their First, as such her life was never her own.  Once, when she had just been blooming into her mid-teens, she decided she didn’t want the life of a First.  She wanted her own life, wanted to see the world and go on grand adventure.  Desperately she wanted to learn everything Thedas and its people could teach her.  To explore every hidden ruin she could find, speak to every person, and just live for her.  It had ended horribly and never again did she allow herself to question, or even mourn, the lose of her life as her own.

If, on occasion, she felt herself aching to know something more than the same forests and valleys they traversed year after year, she pushed the feelings aside.  Such things were not for her.  She was the clans.  It was an honor to be such.

When Deshanna had told her she was to go to the Conclave she had been excited, despite trying to push it down.  For the first time, even if only for a little while, she would just be her.  Not the First of clan Lavellan but just Emma.  

She would still be carrying her clan’s fate on her shoulders but she would be able to see a bit of the world.  To learn new things.  To ask questions she had been taught were not to be asked amongst her kind.  For a while her curiosity would be given a freer reign than it had since before her powers manifested. 

It  _ had  _ been exciting right up until the moment it had gone wrong.  Somehow.  

The memories were all hazy.  It was like trying to find a stone in a murky riverbed.  She thought she could just make it out, but when she reached for it she was never quite able to grab hold of it.  

As she waited for something to happen, her legs started to fall asleep beneath her.  She rocked trying to give them some relief but only ended up wincing at the stone underneath her bones.  By the time her interrogators came in she was almost happy to see them.  At least it might mean she would be stood up soon.

Her wish came true in a sense.  Once the interrogation started things seemed to move quickly.  It was evident they thought she caused this thing they called the Breach and the only reason she wasn’t dead was because of the mysterious mark on her hand which occasionally shot her with searing pain.

It must have been less than an hour before she found herself at a smaller rip in the sky with the warrior of the two named Cassandra.  There she found herself thrown into yet another battle with demons.  The good news is this gave her precious little time to think overly much on anything but surviving the moment.

Once they had vanquished the demons she felt her wrist grabbed in a tight grip, her arm yanked up so sudden and roughly that she almost fell forward as a voice, deep and rich as honey, sounded next to her ear, “Quickly, before more come through.”

She had not time to truly be puzzled as the mark flared to life in her hand.  A different kind of pain emitting from it as it reacted with the rift.  This pain was pulling and hot.  It made her arm feel as though she’d stuck it into flames.  She had to work to hold still as the pain seared her.  She had to work to tell herself that her flesh was not, in actuality, burning off her.

When he released her hand she cradled it to her and for the first time turned to look at the person who had grabbed her.  Almost immediately a feeling of relief went through her.  When she found out that he was an apostate the relief grew even more.  

If anyone could understand her here, if anyone could make her feel less like a lone branch tossed in a rough current, it would surely be this apostate.  The fact that he was an elf was an afterthought that mattered to her not nearly so much as his mage status.  

He was older than she, perhaps he could teach her some new spells.  She could find a friend in the exchanging of magic abilities and in the stories he might share with her of the Fade.  He must be well traveled.  She was eager to ask him what he had seen, what lay beyond that which she could seek out herself.

These hopes were dashed only moments later as they made their way back towards Haven.  He spoke to her a few moments after they had dispatched another set of demons, “You are Dalish, yet clearly away from the rest of your clan.  Did they send you here?”

For some reason the question made her instantly weary.  His tone had remained flat, almost uninterested, but there was something underneath it that she could just barely sense.  Somehow she felt like she was walking into some kind of trap.

“I am their First, I would not be here had they not sent me.”  She tried to chose her words carefully and hesitated before adding, “Have you encountered many Dalish?”

“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.”

And there it was.  She was well aware the Dalish were weary of outsiders, though she did not blame them given everything, they sometimes ended up isolating those who did not deserve such.  Her clan had been more accepting than others but still… that was not saying much considering some clans even had a kill on sight policy if a stranger got too close to their living grounds.

She hesitated once again hoping that would be the end of it but she felt his eyes burning into her back.  She took in a lung full of cold air, feeling it bite at her before she spoke, “So you mean that you spent time as a visitor?”

A question she already knew the answer to before he even said it.

“I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.”

So now he would attack her for no greater reason than he had bad experiences with others of her kind.  Did he think them all the same then?  

She sorted through her head for a proper response but failed to find one.  There was no desire in her to make an enemy of this man.  If they could not be friends as she had initially hoped surely they could at least be civil.

Varric ended up answering for her, “Can’t you elves just get along.”

In retrospect the comment probably should have irritated her but instead she gave a small snort of amusement which seemed to result in Solas’ eyes somehow turning even colder.  At least, she would find some mild entertainment through one of her companions through all of this. 

Several hours later she found herself facing down a pride demon.  Still not nearly as vexing as facing down the chancellor but it was exhausting.  When they had finally defeated it every muscle in her body ached and throbbed.  Her hand had been sending almost constant jolts of pain through her and all she wanted to do was slip into blissful nothingness.

A wish that was granted to her sooner than expected.  She managed to do something to the Breach, but the searing pain it caused in combination with her exhaustion and lack of nutrition made it so she had no chance to register what that was before her mind shut itself down.


End file.
